


don't want to live in a man's world anymore

by incurableromancer



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Panties, Romance, Smut, joe in panties, this is very gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incurableromancer/pseuds/incurableromancer
Summary: Next, cherry lipgloss. The cheap kind that is designed to be licked and wasted like candy, because it’s fun and sparkly.(Joe wants to be eaten like candy, too.)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 21
Kudos: 160





	don't want to live in a man's world anymore

**Author's Note:**

> this one is for the they/thems and the trans folks - we out here

The entire room is thick and foggy with steam when Joe finally steps out of the shower. Zealously scrubbed skin is tender and pruned from too long under too-hot water, fingers still tense and jerky from clutching the razor so tight, mechanical movements to shear off the beard, heart pounding with the need to get it _gone_ , immediately.

A jerky push to get the window open, the cool night air and bright moonlight a lovely chaser to such a cathartic washing.

The feeling, the wanting had crept up sudden and unbidden. Repressed a few too many times over, but there’s peace and safety now. Time. Something they possess a seemingly endless quantity of, and yet that slips between their fingers before they even realize they’re blessed with it. Allows them to take it for granted far too often.

So the desire had welled and ebbed, time and time again, ignored, untouched, turned away from, and now it’s boiling over like a pot left unattended, or a fishing canal that's had a grenade tossed into it.

It’s the comfort of being home, to an extent, that tends to make Joe want to feel like this, soft and pretty. Somewhere that there’s no pressure to do anything but _be_ , human and emotional and real. Bare, genuine, raw. Not to save anyone or anything, or have to be looked at like a man, not people they come into contact with assuming like breathing that they can call Joe _he_ , _sir, Mr._ , not being presumed intimidating or commanding or masculine or in control. Just to be.

And, there’s also the gratitude, the terrified relief at the fact that too long has gone by since last there was time and money for a haircut.

The curls are long and blissfully clean, ticklish and bouncy against tired shoulders, a wanting neck. Everything feels hyper-sensitive and buzzing, aching for touch. There will be begging for Nicky’s kisses, later, a soothing reverence all over Joe’s body, touches that act as a balm to flaming flesh. Not that begging will be necessary. Nicky is happy to worship. Would beg himself, even. If Joe didn’t want, didn’t need it so much.

Trembling fingers wipe some of the condensation from the mirror, so Joe can frown at the reflection. Pouted lips, batted eyelashes. Better. Pushing the curls this way and that, pulling the towel tighter around a heavy chest.

Measured exhale. Turning from the mirror, dropping the towel, hurrying into a soft, snug little pair of panties. Bow on the front. A big, worn out shirt that belongs to Nicky, oversized, enough to hang down and fall over Joe’s thighs. Soft, thick, slouchy socks, loose over newly smooth calves.

Pivoting, reaching for the special bag. Sitting down on the floor.

First, sweet-smelling lotion. Rubbed slowly and indulgently into all the exposed skin. Lovely and nice.

Next, cherry lipgloss. The cheap kind that is designed to be licked and wasted like candy, because it’s fun and sparkly.

(Joe wants to be eaten like candy, too.)

Then, hair clips. Nice ones, made of a clear resin with little gemstones set into them. A gift from Nicky.

A careful breath, and then fingers twisting into the curls, taking a comb and product from the bag. Pulling the sections into tight braids, just two, front and centre that only go back a few inches or so, pinned down with the pretty clips so that Joe’s face is framed nice and soft with all the rest of the curls puffed out, voluminous and free in their tight coils.

Pulling out a nice spray, light and delicious, cherry and chocolate. Spritzing it onto a delicate wrist, rubbing it against the other, and dabbing them onto that wanting neck. Pressure points. Bait for Nicky’s nose, his lips and tongue.

Standing up, belly fluttering nervously. Peering into the mirror, deliberating. Smooth hands over swaying hips, just to marvel at the way there’s a little dip at the waist. Something Joe loves about this body, wishes it would be appropriate and practical to emphasize it more.

Tugging the shirt up, peering over concealed shoulders, licking absentmindedly at the gloss, admiring the pink underwear sitting over a round ass, giving way to creases and then smooth, lovely thighs.

Letting the shirt fall back down, reaching again for the bag. Reapplying the gloss, blowing a kiss in the mirror just to stare, and finally scooping up a nice pink nail polish.

The plan is to make Nicky help with his steadier hands. Capable, big, strong. Precise. A sniper’s hands.

Nicky looks up from his book with an instinctual little smile as soon as he hears Joe coming. His chest is bare, strong legs covered by warm pyjama pants and the comforter they favour on their bed in the chilly winter, toes sticking out at the end of the bed.

When he sees what kind of night it is, what Joe has in shy hands, the only thing that changes in his expression is that his eyes go soft and fond and warm, one big hand immediately reaching for a bookmark to keep his place. Knows that Joe wants his attention, and is eager to give it.

(Joe loves him.)

“Hello, beautiful.”

Joe swallows, all the desperate ache that should have been cried out in the shower welling up again, overwhelmed with the knowledge that Nicky doesn’t ever need an explanation. He just _understands_ , knows Joe as well as anyone can or will. Joe included, half the time.

(That’s why it’s not a mascara kind of night. Messy makeup can be fun, the drama of crying in it, the wild and androgynous fun of being a colourful mess, punk and masculine, when that’s what the wanting is for. But Joe just wants to be pretty, right now.)

Shuffles over with shining eyes trained on the floor, until Nicky can reach out and pull Joe down beside him, pet those big hands over slim hips before one thigh swings over him and Joe settles in his lap, forehead pressing to his firm shoulder.

Joe exhales, lips pressing together, throat getting more achey as Nicky reaches to the hands curled around the back of his neck to coax the small bottle of polish from Joe’s fingers. Hears the soft clack of it being set down on the nightstand before Nicky’s arms come back, warm and enveloping, snuggly and loving.

Nicky curiously noses in against Joe’s neck, ticklish and gentle. Joe shivers at the sensation of it, the expansion of Nicky’s chest as he takes in the perfume, a greedy inhalation once the scent gets into his nose.

“Mmm,” Nicky squeezes Joe’s waist at the same time that he mouths at the spot on Joe’s neck he knows elicits shivers and sighs, sniffing him in earnest, and Joe is helpless not to giggle at the silly comfort of it all, pleased smile finally gracing glossed lips, soft shriek breaking out when Nicky flips them, steady and careful, so that Joe is underneath him.

“You smell so _good_.”

Nicky is kissing Joe’s neck, growling playfully, touches soft and reverent, body firm and warm over Joe. Lovely, loving, the love of Joe’s life.

Joe gasps, hitching a thigh up around Nicky’s waist when those wicked lips part and Nicky laves his hot tongue all over warming skin, teeth coming out to nip before gentle kisses soothe the sting again.

Can’t take it, pulls Nicky’s head up so they can kiss, arches up so that Nicky’s hands can hold up the small of Joe’s back, can swallow down the deep groan when Nicky starts licking and sucking at the gloss, sending shivers all the way down Joe’s spine.

Can only moan, soft and needy, when Nicky finally pulls back. Bops their noses together, fingers coming up to play with Joe’s curls. His smile is affectionate, a special secret, full of centuries of mutual devotion. Makes Joe feel _seen_ , takes the breath right out of gasping lungs when those impossible sea glass eyes bore into his own. The knowledge that Nicky- quiet, stoic Nicky, can and will muse for hours about the beauty of brown eyes and long eyelashes, crinkling smiles and freckles, as long as Joe lets him go uninterrupted.

Nicky whispers, fingers brushing over Joe’s cheekbone, “did you want me to do your nails? I like the color you picked.”

Joe swallows, heart swelling, and pulls Nicky’s mouth back. Kisses the smile right off of his handsome face. Gets a little bit lost in Nicky’s touches and kisses, how he’s everywhere, surrounding and comforting, slowly settling himself down between Joe’s thighs, their bodies cozied up and close as can be, tingly heat growing sure and familiar, not urgent at all.

Whispers, eventually, once the hazy romance of it all settles in and has an intimate, wanting fog commanding them, “mm, maybe. Dunno. Felt like I needed it, but,” Joe trails off, breaths coming quicker when Nicky’s kisses veer to the side, creeping up on the sensitive spots he knows on his lover's body as well as he knows the ones on his own.

“Tomorrow, maybe? I was thinking we could go dancing, if you wanted. At that little place by the beach, or maybe we could set the record player up, out on the balcony.”

Joe’s breath hitches, mouth dropping open wide for a moment when Nicky shifts against him, hand slipping down to curiously stroke two fingers against the side of Joe's panties, just where they sit snug against the soft skin of Joe's hip.

Nicky hums, low and interested. Appraises, simply, “soft.”

Joe lightly scratches loving fingertips against Nicky’s scalp, delights in how it makes him shiver. Knows he likes the delicate, flattering material, gets a little fascinated, a little breathless at it, just like Joe does.

Also, delights in how Nicky knows that sometimes Joe wants the option of keeping things easy, private. Sometimes the desire is to flaunt it, swaying hips and heels and vividly coloured dresses, immaculately coordinated nails and eyeshadow such that all eyes in the room will be for Joe only. The same way sometimes it's backwards baseball caps and tight compression shirts that show off dense muscles, manly scruff, hulking bulk and stature, sometimes suits. All depends. 

(Only ever Nicky’s touches, though. He’s the only one Joe’s looking back at, and sometimes that’s nicer, and feels safer, staying in so that Nicky’s loving gaze is the only one there at all.)

“Hm, the place by the beach sounds nice, maybe. I’m not sure, right now.”

Nicky’s kisses travel underneath Joe’s chin, playful fingers fluttering underneath the shirt, teasing and ticklish at belly, before slipping lower. Rubbing through the panties, just the way Joe likes.

“ _Uhhng_ ,” Joe whines, head tips back. Nicky follows, finds cherry-chocolate lips again.

Velvety tongues caress again and again, then, Joe’s hips rocking up into Nicky’s big, warm palm.

“Mm, we’ll pick tomorrow. Lots of time.”

Nicky says it soft as can be, a whisper away from Joe’s mouth. Watches Joe gasp, then, toes curling, thighs flexing, fingers twisting into Nicky’s hair and against his shoulders, eyes screwing shut in pleasure.

Nicky’s thumb has begun brushing, again and again, over the head of Joe’s cock, now that he’s coaxed it into peaking out of the top of the panties.

“Nicky- _ooh,_ fuck _,_ ” Joe whimpers, can’t help it. Hips jumping up, tongue dipping out to lick the last of the cherry-chocolate up, mind slipping at the delicious friction of the panties. Feels Nicky’s erection against his thigh, insistent and wanting, but patient. Generous. Pressing forward just a little to take the pressure off, because having Joe like this does it for him too, of course.

“You’re gorgeous. An absolute vision, my darling.”

Nicky whispers it just against Joe’s ear, and Joe shudders from head to toe.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Joe gasps, thighs tightening around Nicky’s hips.

“I- I want- yes, but- stay here, please.”

Nicky shushes, softly, kissing at Joe’s cheek gently before pressing his lips right up against Joe's ear, smirking barely, beginning to whisper all about licking and touching and sucking until Joe is trembling underneath him, at the hot breath sending tingles all throughout Joe's body, filthy words from this quiet, polite, respectable man, vulgar and seductive as he massages Joe's cock hot and silky and pulsing under the relentless rubbing through the soft panties, twitching and beading wet at the tip as Nicky tells him how much he’d like to taste it.

“Oh, _oh,_ ye- _ah_ \- _Nicky_ -”

Joe comes just like that, spoiled and warm and loved, rocking shuddering hips up into Nicky’s touches, gentle and slow like a warm wave crashing over the beach, delicious and mind-numbing, thoughts whiting out with searing pleasure. Spills right out of the panties up over Nicky’s fingers, tummy trembling as it’s smeared with release, messy and sticking to Nicky’s shirt, rucked halfway up Joe’s belly by now.

Pants while coming down, waits until Nicky kisses his way back over to swollen lips, needy.

Joe grasps his hair and slides a hand down his neck, pulls him in with a carefully hooked thigh, encouraging him to whimper into Joe’s mouth as he gets himself off by rutting against smooth skin. A new wave of arousal shudders all through spent nerve endings, second hand euphoria as Nicky tenses and moans, groaning low and satisfied as he spills into his own underwear.

It’s quiet for just a few moments before Nicky starts giggling, and Joe is helpless not to join in, feeling loose and relaxed down to the bone, loved and pretty- _perfect._

Nicky brushes their noses together, then, smile warm and lovely.

“I’ll go get a cloth. Do you want another pair of panties, my love?”

Joe kisses him, overcome momentarily with a swelling of gratitude and appreciation. Leaves his beloved breathless, fair eyelashes fluttering in wait of Joe’s reply.

“Yes, please. Can I also have your hoodie?”

It’s a comfy thing, hung up over the hook on the back of their bedroom door, currently, probably smelling just like Nicky, warm and spicy and familiar. Looks very cosy, big and snuggly and flattering the way Joe wants right now.

“Mm, of course.”

Nicky steals one more warm, deep kiss before he stands, shuffling off to the washroom to find something to clean them up with. Comes back naked, warm cloth in one hand, snagging the hoodie with the other, before turning to dig around in the special drawer at the bottom of the dresser for a comfy pair of panties Joe will be comfortable sleeping in.

Joe stretches out, feeling loved up and lazy, appreciatively eyeing Nicky’s broad shoulders.

Yeah. Maybe they’ll set up the record player on the balcony, so Joe can kiss and touch and spoil the way Nicky deserves, nobody's eyes but their own. Maybe while wearing the blue dress that’s been hanging in their closet, waiting for the right occasion. Maybe just in another pair of panties.

They’ll pick tomorrow. There’s plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> title from man’s world by marina. they/them joe rights 
> 
> tumblr is @ dearpatroclus, ask always open to talk abt they/them joe or trans joe or anything else u like


End file.
